I Could Have Lied
by ryeden
Summary: She shook her head then, and still I stood; immobile. Was I made of glass? Was I that transparent, to be seen through so easily? Could my mind and my body be revealed to such a stranger? Did that mean, that if I were to fall apart; I would shatter? Would she be able to make me into a mosaic? Azureshipping; Seto x Anzu. Oneshot.


_I Could Have Lied_

So, another songfic. This time it's Azureshipping (Seto x Anzu) and it's more of a fluffy/comfort-y one for once. Which is new for me, but oh well. Hopefully I didn't completely destroy it.

This is based off of the song I Could Have Lied by Red Hot Chili Peppers.

**Disclaimer:** _I have no rights nor do I claim to have any rights to the franchise known as Yu-Gi-Oh!; I'm merely a fan, and I gain no profit from this. Yu-Gi-Oh! does not belong to me. Kthx._

Comments, messages and reviews are greatly appreciated.

Thank you,

_zlae_.

* * *

Her hands reach out to me, and my lips convey the scorn I feel from receiving such disarming pity.

I will not grab a hold.

I will not give into such a display of weakness.

That's what I tell myself.

I turn away from her outstretched palm, trying to ignore the unfamiliar feeling that blossomed within my hardened chest.

I do not feel; she does not affect me.

(Maybe, one day, my mind will listen.)

* * *

"Seto," her sinful lips whisper. I avert my gaze subtly, not willing to stare into the main part of temptation.

"You're destroying yourself, day by day," she whispers, and I feel young. It's as if all of the age my preoccupied mind felt had been lifted.

Or maybe, it truly had been that long since someone had chastised me about my lifestyle.

Suddenly, I am young again, and all of my ancient bones are no longer charred and decrepit by the passing years.

* * *

"Let me help you, this isn't healthy," she insists, but I do not hear her.

I am caught in a reverie, my mind dwelling on the past that made me this battle-scarred warrior.

The orphanage doors grin at me with a mouth full of razor blades. They cut at me and tear me down, revealing who exists under this chilling façade. My younger self recoils, and the sweaty hand of Gozaburo Kaiba is placed on my trembling shoulder.

"It's alright, **son**," he whispers vehemently, acid scorn on his tongue.

He starts to maneuver me, moving me through the field of greedy hands filled with want.

And in the crowd consisting of unsated urchins, I see her; glowing brightly, and all the beauty of the blackened sky pales in comparison.

"What are you doing here?" My younger, panicked voice questions.

She just smiles at me, outstretching her hand to me like she has so many times in the past.

"Let's **go**," Gozaburo – the man I refused to call a father – insists, his clawed fingernails digging into my shoulder.

I turn away, missing the one tear that began to slide down her cheek.

* * *

"Hey Seto, what do you think you'll be doing in ten years?" Her voice beckons to me, my guilt dragging me down until I can no longer breathe.

Without realizing, I held my breath anyway.

She continued, unperturbed and relaxed.

"I'll be famous," she whispers eagerly, her eyes resembling stars and her voice containing wonder. "But… I'll have to leave Domino, too." She says the last part with something like regret in her voice, and I almost flinched.

My tongue dries and all my mind can do is echo those words, again and again, like a disembodied voice reverberating in my disbelieving ears.

I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. It strangled me, and I could do nothing as she stood.

She left without a word, and I could do nothing to stop her.

* * *

"I could have lied," my voice whispers as I am finally allowed to speak.

I honestly couldn't have told her where I'd be in ten years.

After all, I didn't even know if I'd be there tomorrow.

* * *

"You're pathetic," she says, her trembling lip and watery eyes failed to mask her sadness.

"I can't believe myself, to think I could be so ignorant," she whispers, her fists clenched by her sides, white-knuckled and hurting.

For once, I couldn't tell who she was annoyed with more; me or herself.

And I think that the coward within me wouldn't be able to handle either answer.

And so I did the only thing I knew I could; I moved to abandon her. I stood, my spine straight and icy eyes refusing to show the emotions I felt.

After all, I couldn't even identify them myself.

And it's not like she'd be able to understand me, anyway.

* * *

"I really do pity you," she adds as an afterthought, her eyes sad and unwavering.

She could remain strong, even at a time like this?

"All you do is work your body into the ground, tiring your mind until you're too exhausted to think!" She shook her head then, and I stood; immobile.

Was I made of glass? Was I that transparent, to be seen through so easily? Could my mind and my body be revealed to such a stranger?

Did that mean, that if I were to fall apart; I would shatter?

Would anyone be able to make me into a mosaic?

Or was I doomed to gather on pavements and unprepared feet, slicing into them and harming them without warning?

Was that what so many heretics believed was called 'destiny'?

I look at her then; and I really see her.

Her eyes stare back, and in them dawns sudden realization.

"You didn't have a plan for the future."

It wasn't a question.

'_No,_' I wanted to scream, '_I just wanted to waste away through the gradual passing of time._'

But I couldn't speak.

To unveil my thoughts would mean that I was confiding in someone; and that meant weakness.

And I was not weak.

**I will never be weak.**

* * *

And then, all I could think of was one retort, the one thing that could chill both of us to the bone.

"How sad, to discover that the one person I might've actually respected was a larger coward than myself," I said in my coldest, most unemotional voice.

It cut through her instantly, and I felt that wound repeated on myself.

But I didn't dare stumble.

I moved to turn away, like the routine I had grown so accustomed to.

But this time, she beat me.

She turned away first.

* * *

Did our relationship have any meaning other than this continuous cycle of want? All I find myself doing when I have spare time is seeking her out, saying nothing and doing nothing.

All I really wanted was to be near her.

But it's like we can't accept that, and we're both too stubborn to admit that we simply wish to enjoy one another's company.

Our normal conversations turn sour, our lips dry and our throats hoarse.

And when that happens, all I can do is catch my eyes staring at her cracked lips.

And I lunge for it, claiming those lips as my own. She makes no resist, and I feel tugs in my scalp as her fingers clutch my brown hair. We drown in each other, lost in the feeling of our skin on one another, eyes clouded and only clearing when we look upon our now-focused selves.

I thought I had ridden the word 'love' from my vocabulary.

I hadn't needed to; it never existed.

There was only obsession.

And then there was Anzu, who was so similar to nicotine and caffeine – infecting my system until my only contaminated thoughts were of her.

* * *

Her manicured hand reaches out me, and I wince as I feel the wounds on my inside fester and bubble in the heat.

She looks at me expectantly, as if knowing what I would do.

She prepares to take her hand away, and my steady eyes search for witnesses.

There is no one but us in this secluded area.

She begins taking her hand away, and I reach out to clutch it like a lifeline.

There was no way for her to mask her surprise; even I didn't realise what I had done until afterwards.

I wince and take my hand away, opening my mouth to speak. To utter some excuse, to coerce her with my tongue that had caressed her own.

My mind was empty for once; all I could think about was the sliver of comfort I had felt in her small hand.

And I shied away from it.

No one had ever been so shamelessly open to me.

Not even Mokuba.

And that alone was enough to terrify the coward inside of me.

* * *

"You don't need to be this way, Seto," she said, her eyes thoughtful and intelligent. I continue to pour the coffee, my hands shaking as she continued.

"You're just scared of what people will think if you let someone in," Anzu said, tapping her hands on her chin. I didn't know what to make of her psychoanalysis.

Immediately, my mind had rejected it.

I didn't care what anyone thought.

But then my eyes had wandered to her relaxed figure, and I wondered who I was lying to. Was it myself?

No. That was ridiculous.

I threw the thought from my mind and began sipping on the coffee, purposely ignoring the rest of her words.

* * *

"I'll…" I stopped and inhaled, and her head turned upwards sharply. "I'll be here tomorrow." I said, making a promise.

I didn't tell her my reasoning.

I didn't let her know that she was the only reason I would wake up tomorrow.

Something like joy and surprise flitted through her shining eyes, and I could only avoid my gaze.

She walked up to me, and in such a façade of exaggerated indifference, I hadn't noticed.

Her slender arms wrapped around my torso, and I leaned back against the kitchen counter.

My hands twitched, and then, hesitantly and slowly, I wrapped my arms back around her.

She breathed in my scent, and I breathed her in; I let her mark my lungs. I wrapped my arms around her tighter and I longed for such intimate contact, as much as it scared me.

We stood like that; silent and immobile, just taking comfort in the solitude we provided for each other. And at that long moment I had felt such a bitter sting in my chest that I had looked down, expecting to see shards of glass lodged through my chest.

But it was only her; slicing into me just to patch me back up with a smile.

* * *

_end_.


End file.
